


Kintsugi

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friendship, M/M, timeskip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23128069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: He beamed then, and Atsumu felt something inside of him fracture. “I know you’re gonna like Kenma, and he’ll like you too!”Really? He tried not to raise a sceptical eyebrow, but as soon as Shouyou’s back was turned he groaned inwardly. Sometimes Shouyou’s faith in his affability was a strain.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kozume Kenma, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 25
Kudos: 335
Collections: Valentine's Day Lockers 2020





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Masha who likes both atsuhina and kenhina, so I played a little with those dynamics and came up with this. It follows on from 'a murder of crows' but it's note necessary to read that one before you read this.
> 
> Kintsugi means 'golden repair' and is a Japanese technique of repairing broken pottery with lacquer mixed with powdered gold.

Kozume Kenma did not look like the kind of guy who wanted to be hugged. Atsumu wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone with quite such hunched shoulders and introvert demeanour. With his pale skin and dark curtain of hair, he had the appearance of vampire who not only never saw the sun, but hadn’t seen moonlight either. Unlike a vampire, though, he looked as if he’d be perfectly happy never being in close proximity to anyone, not even for a snack.

However, as Shouyou bowled towards him, he offered himself up to be embraced and there was even a small smile drifting on his lips.

“Kenma! We made it!”

“I can see,” he said, and looking over Shouyou’s shoulder he inclined his head to Atsumu, wariness in his eyes. “Welcome.”

“Ah, okay, this,” Shouyou began with a flourish towards Kenma, “is Kozume Kenma, my lifelong friend—”

“Since I was sixteen,” Kenma corrected.

“Ah, yeah, and this is Miya Atsumu—”

“We know who each other is, Shouyou,” Atsumu replied. He bowed to Kenma. “Thank you for … um … invitin’ us, well, lettin’ me tag along.”

“Shouyou asked,” Kenma said simply. “Come inside.”

It was an old house, with peeling paint and a straggling garden round the front and back. Atsumu reckoned he could fit his and Osamu’s old bedroom inside at least seven times. Not that he was fussed, or envious. According to Shouyou, Kozume had made this happen all by himself, so good luck to the guy.

He did wonder why he’d want such a large place though and kinda isolated now he thought about it. Shouyou had suggested cycling, and maybe that would have been easier than the bus and then the walk, especially with the bag Shouyou was carrying.

(“Tell me again why we’re takin’ him food?” he muttered.

“Because I’m gonna cook you both a Brazilian dish. And don’t worry, I won’t ask you to help. Either of you.” He beamed then, and Atsumu felt something inside of him fracture. “I know you’re gonna like Kenma, and he’ll like you too!”

Really? He tried not to raise a sceptical eyebrow, but as soon as Shouyou’s back was turned he groaned inwardly. Sometimes Shouyou’s faith in his affability was a strain.)

“You have got to see Kenma’s game room,” Shouyou said excitedly. “It is so cool. You’ll love it!”

“What do you like to play?” Kenma asked. “I have … uh … most things.”

“Uhm, sports games. Sometimes. Like, I used to with my brother when we were kids, but not so much now.” He swallowed seeing Kenma’s eyes narrow a little. “Not that there’s anythin’ wrong with playin’ now, just that volleyball kinda takes up everythin’, and … well … ‘Samu’s moved into his own place and we don’t hafta play.”

“Have to?” Kenma asked, his tone acidly polite.

“We fight a lot. We kinda used to make up by playin’.” He shrugged, and then peered into the room. “Whoa, you have arcade games in here. That’s really cool. Great for reflexes!”

“Ha! I said you’d like it,” Shouyou said, again smiling, but it was a little more tentative and not as bright as usual.

_Is he worried ‘bout somethin’?_

“I better put this away,” Shouyou continued, holding up the grocery bag.

He slipped away to the kitchen, leaving Atsumu standing just over the threshold of the room with Kenma staring at him. Then he gestured for him to enter fully, muttering something about playing whatever he wanted.

“May I, Kozume-san?” he asked, pointing to a classic Space Invaders machine.

“Sure.” He checked himself. “Sorry, I haven’t asked if you and Shouyou want a drink.”

“Uh, yeah, that’d be nice. Was quite a hot walk.”

“Shouyou, would you like a drink?”Kenma asked, backing out of the room. “I’ve got juice, or could make tea. Also have some lemonade … the nice stuff. Or….” Turning back to Atsumu he asked, “Do you want alcohol? I have beer in the fridge. I don’t drink but Kuro does sometimes, so …”

“I’m fine. Lemonade’d be great. I do drink sometimes, but … uh … not to excess. Like, I’m responsible and don’t want to fuck … uh … muck up my trainin’ and health ‘n stuff and—”

“Lemonade for me,” Shouyou replied appearing in the doorway. “I’m gonna cook moqueca, but don’t need to start yet.”

“Mo-what?” Atsumu asked.

“Moqueca,” Kenma said. “Fish stew. Shouyou used to send me pictures of the foods he’d tried.”

“Hey, you remembered!”

Kenma said nothing, but Atsumu got this feeling he never forgot anything—certainly not where Shouyou was concerned.

They drank lemonade sitting at a table in the garden. It was a warm day, but not too hot, although Atsumu noticed Kenma kept himself in the shade and rattled the ice in his glass before crunching a cube in his mouth, whereas Shouyou basked, sticking his legs out in front of him.

“Before you say anything, I have slathered myself in sunblock,” he said. Who he was informing, Atsumu wasn’t sure, but he stopped his hand from reaching for the suncream in his bag, and saw Kenma relax back into his seat.

“We used to have to run in temperatures like this,” Shouyou continued. “D’you remember that, Kenma, at training camp?” Opening an eye he directed his next words to Atsumu. “Year we first qualified for Spring High, we attended a joint training camp with some of the Tokyo schools.”

“Which is how you met Bokkun, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He took a pause. “Sorry, have I told you all this?”

“Not really. Not about the running, anyway.”

“Ah, yeah, so the forfeit for losing was to run a circuit, and we were crappity bad. I mean so bad, that we always ended up running.”

“Not quite,” Kenma remarked. “You won three.”

“Haaa, yeah, out of fifty.”

“Did’ja good though,” Atsumu chipped in. “Go through the mill to get strong! I used t’ run with ‘Samu a lot, ‘specially in the Summer. Mom saved a lot of money on keepin’ us amused durin’ the holidays, but had t’ spend it on shoes.”

“No pain, no gain,” Kenma muttered. “I hated running, especially in the heat, or the cold. Or on roads. And fields because of the insects. ” He crunched an ice cube. “Practise was a pain.”

“Did you like _anything_?” Atsumu asked, amazed.

Kenma tilted his head to the side, assessing. “Figuring out the opponents weaknesses.”

“He was very good at that,” Shouyou remarked. “Always frustrating playing against Nekoma.”

“Mmm, until someone broke out of their cage,” Kenma muttered.

They swapped a few more reminiscences after that, Shouyou asking after some people Atsumu assumed were other players. For his part, Kenma answered briefly (although a little more in depth about the guy called Kuro) but only asked after Shouyou’s sister.

Atsumu was content to listen. It wasn’t like he had anything to contribute, and the lemonade was good, so he sat back, sipped and let their catch up wash over him. His thoughts drifted to Inarizaki training camps. Some of the guys had made friends with guys from the other schools. Samu, he thought, was still in contact with several but that could have been as much to do with publicity for the business than cuz he liked them. He’d kept nothing, not from then, but Tokyo had proved different, connecting with Hoshiumi and Komori, although even that had been brief—a matter of keeping an eye on future opposition or, even more in the future, teammates.

_Both of us good at playin’ the long game, eh, ‘Samu?_

“Tanaka-san saw Yamamoto-san recently.”

“Mmm, Tora said.” Kenma smiled. “I’m not sure he can get over Tanaka actually being married. And who his wife is.”

“Suga-san reckons Tanaka can’t believe it either,” Shouyou laughed.

“Who’s this?” Atsumu perked up.

“Tanaka-san?”

“Yeah, I met your senpai. What’s the deal with his wife?”

“She was our old manager.”

He thought back. Not Yachi—the one before. Dark hair, glasses, looked serious. “Oh… she was kinda pretty.”

“Tanaka and Nishinoya-san had a crush on her for years. Really protective. And Yamamoto …”

“Could barely get a sentence out in her presence,” Kenma murmured, and snorted.

“Did you?” Atsumu asked.

“Me? Nooo, she was our precious manager, but that was all.”

“Shouyou was too in love with volleyball,” Kenma said, a small smile on his lips. “Still is. Quite surprised you haven’t brought a ball with you.”

Laughing, Atsumu tugged one of Shouyou’s curls. “He has. It’s in his bag.”

“Hey, you’re as bad with your nail file!” he protested “And hand cream.”

“Hand cream is a necessity for Setters,” Kenma interjected. “Sleeping with a volleyball is _odd,_ Shouyou.”

“Sleeping…” Atsumu roared with laughter upsetting his glass. “You didn’t!”

“I have photos he sent me of his room in Brazil and I swear his ball has its own pillow.”

“It’s a part of me,” Shouyou replied, unperturbed and got to his feet. “I’m going to start food now. You two can discuss manicures or something.”

He watched him stroll back into the house, steady tread and a slight skip to his gait. But as he turned back to pick up his glass, he became aware of Kenma’s scrutiny.

“I’m betting Shouyou said. ‘You’ll love Kenma, he’s so cool.’” Kenma delivered the line with devastating mimicry.

“Somethin’ like that,” he mumbled.

“You don’t have to.”

“No offence, but I find it pretty hard to like someone straight away,” Atsumu sighed. “I do think what you do is pretty cool, and I like your house.” He chewed his lower lip. “What did he say about me?”

“That I’d love you because you’re cool,” Kenma scoffed. “Not exactly those words, but you get the drift.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“I’ve not really thought about it. I doubt you’d care one way or another, would you?”

Shrugging, Atsumu drained his glass. Now he did think about it, he wasn’t that fussed, but he weren’t gonna fight the guy either.

“You’re an extraordinary Setter,” Kenma murmured, and his eyes became a little dreamy. “I watched your game against Karasuno.”

“Which one?”

“Uh… both, but I meant the first one.”

“Yeah, thought so.” Everyone remembered that game. Because the dark horses had defeated the favourites and everyone was happy about that.

“Because if you’d won, we would have played you, so it was as much to analyse your play,” Kenma explained. “I had no connection to your second game—apart from Shouyou. I watch the Jackals games when I can find a stream.”

“Because of Shouyou?” he mocked.

“I don’t _have_ to watch anymore.” His mouth twitched. “But you’re an interesting team. I watched some of your games before he joined you, although … that was mainly because he asked me to.”

“And you do everything he asks.”

“Eventually.” Kenma finished his drink, then picked up the empty jug. “I will top this up.”

Alone in the garden, Atsumu stretched out his legs to lap up the sun. It was pleasant here, if a bit too quiet. He could spend an afternoon quite happily, but he knew his feet would get twitchy after a few hours. Already his mind was ticking through tomorrow’s plans, and whether they’d get some practise in on this break. And he was sure Shouyou felt the same. The ball was a part of him, he’d said, just as volleyball was part of Atsumu, something he craved and perfected.

“You’re looking fierce,” Kenma said, placing the now full jug back on the table. “Volleyball?”

“Mmm. Is Shouyou okay?”

“Getting on with it. Shooed me out of my own kitchen.” He sounded huffy.

“He don’t like my help either,” Atsumu replied. “Don’t take offence.”

“I haven’t.” Rolling his eyes, Kenma poured them both more lemonade. “He just asked whether we were friends yet.”

“And what did you tell him?” Atsumu smirked. “Did’ja say ‘He’s interesting’.”

“I skipped out there before replying,” Kenma replied. He took a breath and then sipped his drink, but his free hand was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, and there was an intense set to his brow. “Shouyou has such faith in humanity, don’t you think? He …”

 _Ah, here it is._ “Are you about tell me he’s fragile?” Atsumu asked. “Is this a warnin’ not to break him, Kozume?”

And then Kenma smiled, a peculiar small smile, and his eyes became cat-like and sly as he glanced at Atsumu before staring out at the garden. “It’s not Shouyou who’d break. You on the other hand …”

“Me?”

“Shouyou breaks people,” Kenma told him, his voice susurrus. “Some into two pieces, others into a million.”

Atsumu leant forwards. “What are you sayin’?”

“Kintsugi.” Kenma said succinctly and laughed softly. “He shatters the façade with a smile. A dazzling heat, and before you realise, fractures have appeared. Some are hairline, others are right to the core. Everything changes. And then he mends you. Like cracks in a pot filled in with gold. You’re still recognisable, Miya, but you’re altered. Be careful.”

Shouyou was singing, his voice drifting towards them from the open window, light and tuneful. Utterly piercing Atsumu’s heart.

“You’re worried about me?” he asked, laughing nervously. “I thought Shouyou was your friend.”

“He is,” Kenma whispered and then he turned his head, staring Atsumu straight in the eye. “But I know he’s strong.”


End file.
